hopelesshappiness.com

able-bodied happiness

Gustavo and Dmitry had been good friends for more than 40 years. They first met on a job when they were both in their 30's. Both had previously married (in their 20's), and both were still married to the same lovely wives. For whatever reason, the wives never really hit it off. They were cordial and could enjoy the company of the group of four in the context of a restaurant meal every month or two, but even into retirement Gustavo and Dmitry continued to meet for lunch every Monday, and typically planned another activity or two (these days, usually coffee) for later each week. Recently though Gustavo was growing weary of Dmitry's incessant exhortations decrying the (alleged) conspiracy between his wife and his doctor forcing him into a regimen of medicine and treatment that Dmitry claimed "enfeebled his mental faculties." Interestingly, Dmitry also claimed that he managed to circumvent his morning 'requirements' on days he was to meet up with Gustavo, but still, over time, he maintained its insistent consistency was taking its toll. And Gustavo had to admit that he had noticed a certain faraway-ness occasionally creep into Dmitry's eyes and conversation; but the truth remained, they were both getting on in years...

The thing was, Gustavo was on a very similar schedule of treatment, and he felt Great! He believed the medicine worked wonders. He knew how to relax and enjoy his free time, he had lots of friends, and though he had some social responsibilities, on most days he could generally wait to see if the spirit moved him before deciding if it was to be an active day or not. In contrast, Dmitry felt thwarted and suppressed, and claimed the medicine slowed him down. Like right now, he was ranting about how they were always citing the studies and stats that showed without a doubt this healing path was not only the most well-traveled, but was so because it also led to the most desirable results. Dmitry was nearly shouting. "I should enjoy my old age, they say! And I say right back, well then Let Me! If I want to take your Damn medicine I will! But if I don't, then leave me be! If I die early, maybe I'll die Happy! And maybe that's better than dying slowly with my wits scattered about behind me like so many erudite droppings left to rot in the sun. They worry about my age, and my heart, and my head; but I ask, at what age must we stop dreaming? At what age must we stop learning? At what age must we stop fighting? At what age must we stop? And that's what their Damn medicine makes me want to do - Stop! - and Sit! - and Smile like some silly little seven year old schoolgirl! The difference is, that schoolgirl still has an opportunity to learn and to outgrow her silliness."

As Dmitry went quiet - (reflective and faraway) - Gustavo was thinking of dinner that night and hoping for Margaret's meatloaf; oh, that thing she does with the cheese crackers...

Serving Happiness

Will had worked very hard at recruiting volunteers for his Soup Kitchen / Bakery, but it was difficult finding reliable people to come into this part of the city at 2 or 3am. And he found the people he was helping to feed were also not consistently reliable, again (he thought) because of the early morning hours. Due to Will's full time paying job, 'The Kitchen' (as it was now known to the neighborhood locals) was only open on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, serving fresh baked breads and some basic pastries until they ran out in the mornings, and then some basic (but hearty) soups for lunch. Will's life was very busy. When Will's wife died unexpectedly last year, it was no surprise to him that she had left some of her 'old family' money earmarked for just such an enterprise. They had talked many times about wanting to give back. Married ten years earlier when they were both still in graduate school, they had plans for two children, one of which they intended to adopt. They had just begun this process when Rebecca was killed in the car accident.

Will was sadly thinking of this on his way into 'The Kitchen' at 5am on this Saturday morning. He had been devastated by her death, but knew that she would be proud at how he had pulled this together and actually was giving back, as they had somehow hoped to someday do together. And now, for the first time since he had opened 'The Kitchen' he thought he had a reliable volunteer manager. He was one of the homeless men from the neighborhood. He had some previous bakery and food experience, and had been working with Will for about three months now. Will had gotten him a cell phone last week and entrusted him just yesterday with the keys, and today was the first morning Will actually slept in. Rock (as everyone knew him) had instructions to text Will as soon as he got there and call if he needed help before they opened their doors at 6am. Will had received the text at 2am and knowing Rock would be fine, he rolled over and slept for two more hours. Will was actually smiling a little as he unlocked the back door to what he thought of as 'Becca's Kitchen'.

Suddenly Will found himself accosted from behind and in the clutches of the much bigger Rock. "Why'd you have to bolt the Damn thing to the floor?" Rock asked. "Why?" I was just going to carry that Damn little safe out the back door and you'da never seen me again. Now open it." And with that demand Rock threw Will across the floor at the safe. Will knew there was not much more than $100 in the safe; donations he should have taken to the bank yesterday. Will opened the safe, took out the money, and turned to give it to Rock which was when he saw the knife. And then he felt it. Three strong, quick punches sunk to the hilt in his gut and one thrust into his neck.

As Will lay on the floor bleeding, and watched Rock's hazy figure run out the back door, his only thought was, 'will $100 be enough to get him out of town?'

The following is in response to a comment I might have received this week if anyone actually read my blog:

I am not arguing against religion - I am arguing for an autonomous skepticism and I am encouraging a functional uncertainty and doubt.

It just so happens that skepticism, uncertainty, and doubt undermine established authority and weaken team spirit.

I believe that an autonomous skepticism and a functional uncertainty and doubt will (and should) lead to questions that require effort and that will (and should) create some hardships. This adversity will in turn strengthen the individual and help to dissolve borders by generating dialogue, thus broadening the depth and breadth of our common ground and advancing one's search for Truth and Wisdom.

If I voice a belief, and I am unable to articulate a Perfect understanding of that belief to another individual, I must allow him or her room to express some skepticism, uncertainty, and doubt.

I believe in belief because all of us on occasion, (and many of us quite frequently), are unable to connect all the dots, fill all the holes, and leap all the gaps.

I believe in belief; provided that belief does no harm.

If I think less of another for what they believe or because they disagree with me, then I am doing harm by building walls and creating distance that discourages and impedes the likelihood of synergy and interdependent productivity.

I believe widespread, global synergy and interdependent productivity are necessary for the ultimate survival of Humanity.

I do not believe I am exaggerating.

I am arguing for an autonomous skepticism and I am encouraging a functional uncertainty and doubt.

Imagine 'Fear' as a living, breathing, corporeal entity. Many days, many of us are able to avert our eyes, or turn and go in a different direction, thus ignoring Fear; pushing it to the back of the mind as if it were not there. But if Fear could nod and smile in passing; or walk up and shake your hand; or sit by you at lunch; or come up from behind and sling an arm around your shoulders, laughing heartily at the joke you just made...

I imagine Fear as an androgynous male; generic; vanilla; nondescript; yet strikingly noticeable. You may imagine him or her as a personification of feelings and thoughts from within (those both close to the surface and deeper within); or you may imagine him or her as threats and challenges outside of yourself and (likely) outside of your control; or you may imagine him or her as an amalgamation of within and without. I am suggesting that you put a face to Fear and imagine him or her as a living, breathing, corporeal entity; someone you must see and interact with on a daily basis.

What are my options?

1. Avoidance - I could continue to avert my eyes and work at avoiding contact, but the ground rules say daily contact. This strategy feels like wasted energy.
2. Naked Fear - I could openly shake and tremble and proclaim my fear of Fear on bended knee with bowed head, asking for mercy. This strategy is truthfully obsequious.
3. Brave Front - I could acknowledge Fear with respect and offer sincere (but often token) resistance, feeling good about my candid approach. This strategy is socially acceptable.
4. Ignorance - I could delude myself into believing that I am protected by laws and fairness and justice and goodness and morality, and that what goes around comes around, and that everything happens for a reason. This strategy is lazy.
5. Worship - I could openly and joyously proclaim my love and adoration of all things Fear is and all things Fear does, creating and/or believing myths and stories that give me comfort in my abject servility. This strategy is an evolutionary step above Naked Fear.
6. Fight - I could fight with passion, reason, compassion, responsibility, and hard work. This strategy will at times result in anger, frustration, and even despair; but at other times may result in goodness, growth, and mutual beneficence.

The reality is that I may choose any one of these strategies to fit a circumstance, but in each decision I should ask - Cui Bono? - Who benefits from this? And it is because of this question that it helps to put a face to Fear. A relationship between myself and another living, breathing, corporeal entity is more readily constructed and deconstructed than a relationship between myself and a faceless (monstrous) concept. I believe I must interact with Fear and I must choose actions and behaviors that are most beneficial to me as an individual and to me as the whole of Humanity. (I must also remember that Fear is an element of Humanity, and as such, deserves a face.)

If it is true that all relationships are symbiotic, then as I am choosing a strategy for interacting with Fear, I need to assess the possibilities: a) one of us will benefit and one of us will be harmed; b) one of us will benefit and one of us will be relatively unaffected; or c) one of us will benefit and one of us will acquire some degree of benefit less than or equal to the other. I believe equal benefit is rare.

I do not want to destroy Fear, and as a living, breathing, corporeal entity I do not believe Fear wants to destroy me.

To analyze the six strategies listed above, I will use a spectrum of negative ten (-10) to positive ten (+10) to respectively reflect maximum harm to maximum benefit.

1. Avoidance - As a general rule, depending on circumstance, I believe the 'Avoidance' strategy has most often left me in the -3 to -5 range, while benefiting Fear to the tune of a +4 to +6.
2. Naked Fear - For me this is not a frequent strategy and if/when utilized it has been an 'extreme' circumstance or completely private (non-public) behavior. When utilized, I believe it has harmed me anywhere from -4 to -8, tempered somewhat by the truthfulness, whereas Fear has benefited in the +5 to +8 range.
3. Brave Front - With this strategy I find myself relatively unaffected (-1 to +1) in many everyday interactions, but if a circumstance continues for a more noticeable span I find myself moving steadily downward and start creating exit strategies somewhere around -4 or -5. Fear wins again, starting at +2 to +4 and gaining ground as I lose ground.
4. Ignorance - I implement this strategy so I may see myself as relatively unaffected (+1) or receiving some degree of benefit (+5), and so I may see Fear as relatively unaffected (+1 to -1) to some degree of harm (-3 to -6). However, objectivity (hindsight) tells me that these numbers are reversed.
5. Worship - The functional reality of this strategy appears to be a win - win with both myself and Fear falling into a +3 to a +9 range. I believe the specific placement on the spectrum depends largely on my degree of uncertainty, and if these skeptical feelings and thoughts are nurtured (as they should be) and continue to develop I move into the negative range of -1 to -9 (or even -10). I believe before one reaches the further limits of harm, this strategy should be disposed of, though this shedding of skin is not always easily done, and can be very painful.
6. Fight - This strategy is all over the board and will approach both extremes, though as symbiosis dictates, one or the other of us will always be in the positive ranges. There will be circumstances where both Fear and I benefit (though typically one of us moreso than the other), there will be circumstances where one of us will be relatively unaffected, and there will be circumstances where one of us will appear to be harmed. To commit to this strategy is to commit to hard work and a daily battle. I would also argue that with the objectivity of hindsight (as maintained in the opposite direction with 'Ignorance') a negative number for myself as judged in the moment could gain ground, and based on the resultant learning and growth, could move into the positive ranges.

It is obvious (at least to me) where I have landed; but as I frequently do, I began thinking and writing uncertain of where I would go. And as I frequently do, I believe I have landed in a good place.

Beauty. I could make a list. I could upload images. I could argue that beauty is in anything (and everything) of significance. I could draw to mind ugliness, and define beauty comparatively. I could find my way to beauty through emotion. I could acknowledge beauty by not seeing beauty. I could research a scientifically clinical definition of beauty, and be satisfied. I could argue that beauty is in anything (and everything) of insignificance. I could seek a spiritual understanding of beauty that transcends my physicality, and be richer for the process, but never be satisfied.

I am sure there are many, many paths to beauty. I am certain that many paths must be traveled conjointly to add depth and meaning. I know that beauty is esoteric, ineffable, and unique to each individual. I also know that, though unique, beauty encompasses such a broad spectrum there is considerable overlap and much agreement.  And, I know that (upper-case) Beauty is unknowable.

Herein lies the beauty of beauty. When I consider other desirable characteristics and positive attributes (such as compassion, health, wisdom, truth, inner peace, reason, hard work, exoteric goodness, spirituality, and happiness) they are all riddled with beauty, but the same cannot be said (to the same degree) for any of these other traits. For example: spirituality for many is so filled with emotion that it may lack reason and include compassion or exoteric goodness only for like-minded thinkers; seeking wisdom and truth may at times suppress inner peace, or, at other (less-frequent) points, elevate it; hard work applied to any of these attributes can be under- or over-appreciated as its interpretation is potentially impacted by random (good or bad) fortune; the same could be said about exoteric goodness; one's health can also be adversely impacted by other seemingly positive or innocuous aspirations; and while happiness can (in theory) be attained by traveling any one or more of these paths, the reality of happiness remains elusive; yet beauty (I believe) can be and is acknowledged to some degree by every individual that has ever breathed on this planet. And, an appreciation of beauty can be shared across many boundaries.

(NOTE: In places both above and below I may use the terms 'characteristics' and 'attributes' interchangeably, but for purposes of this discussion characteristics refer to learned traits or aspirations that one works for, whereas attributes are more frequently naturally come by or caused more directly by an outside influence, though to sustain an attribute one must recognize and then work at their appreciation. It is the necessity of work applicable to both that allows for a give and take.)

Some may question if beauty is an attribute that one should aspire toward, and I would respond that without some natural inclination toward beauty we would be less motivated to nurture, groom, and refine our appreciation of the multi-faceted intrigue of layered beauty; so - "Yes" - we should aspire to create beauty (that does no harm) and appreciate beauty when and where we are able.

Think of beauty...

Now, feel beauty...

Now, immerse yourself in its depths, until - you... must... come... up... for... air...

When I can focus to where I truly feel I am drowning in beauty, in part it brings about a melancholia. A sadness (I believe) because one momentarily recognizes a purity in this contemplative beauty; a flickering realization of an immensity held within a single grain of essentiality. Perhaps the potency of this boundless, diminutive singular is 'the' quintessential quality we see as beauty within all other desirable characteristics and positive attributes. Because of this, beauty is more amenable to being defined by itself. Yes, spirituality is spiritual, and health is healthy, and goodness is good, and peace is peaceful, and reason is rational; but beauty is truly beautiful - and when we say this (moreso than the others) it adds depth and meaning. And though it is true that pursuit and/or an appreciation of many of these attributes can be layered (from where I sit) infinitely, as we add layers to beauty, it, more than any other, creates mystifying harmonies that lead us to a depth and complexity we often do not fully discern until we have come out of its spell; and even then this understanding is tainted by one's humanity.

Perhaps the magic is not in its seeming illusions, but in its powers of intoxication. And since this power of beauty can be found in all that is positive, perhaps that is why we are more open to a communal comprehension, and so easily overwhelmed by a glimpse of its provocative Perfection.

A few months past I referred to beauty (in the post Free-Floating Happiness) as an interpretation of Form, Contrast, and Variation. This is skirting the edges of a clinical definition so, for balance, we should also associate 'desire' with our search for and appreciation of beauty. When we factor in desire, we factor in the unpredictability of our humanity; yet, despite this unpredictability, when it comes to beauty it seems we are agreeably unpredictable. Perhaps this is because we most commonly share an intense desire for Life which inevitably includes its pain and adversity which in turn adds considerable poignancy, heightening the experience of all the desirable characteristics and positive attributes that are riddled with beauty - including beauty.

In recent months I also concluded a post (Living Happiness) with the following:

To live fully, I must live in doubt, seeking reassurance, within my humanity, so I may (on occasion) touch transcendence... ...To live in this manner is terrifyingly beautiful."

And perhaps this more than anything explains the universality of beauty - it is our desire for Life - It is a meeting place - It is powerful - And it is secretive.

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the land

Many people were saying, it's not what we planned;

The bank bags were stuffed with obscene market share,

In hopes that the Brink's truck soon would be there;

Shareholders were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of dollar-signs danced in their heads;

And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,

Had just settled down for our Christmas Eve nap,

When up in my dreams there arose such a clatter

I sank further in to see what was the matter.

I sank like a stone through hot embers and ash,

And fell in a heap on a big pile of cash.

Fierce sparks in their quest to set something aglow

Gave the lustre of hell-heat encircling this dough,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

Here to lead us astray, twas an ace puppeteer.

He was pulling the strings so lively and quick,

It took me a moment to shake off his trick.

More rapid than eagles, his followers they came,

And he whistled and shouted, and called them by name;

Now, Penny's! now, Macy's! now, Nordstrom and Saks!

On, Wal Mart! on, Costco, and on, T J Maxx!

To Bed, Bath, and Beyond! to the fat outlet mall!

They'll dash away! dash away! throw cash away all!

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, they'll go ahead and buy.

So back to their houses the consumers they flew,

With a pocket full of debt, and an albatross too.

And then, with an inkling, I woke to my fate,

Financing, withdrawing, to score a rebate;

As these weeks before Christmas were churning around,

A new realization began to gain ground.

It was dressed all in sense, and logic, and reason,

But its shimmer was tarnished by greed in the season;

This song with much poise that's being sung in my head,

Wants me to believe that my old ways are dead.

My eyes -- how they opened! My nimble thoughts blurred!

A bourgeoisie hype that sustains the absurd!

Their droll little pretense all wrapped with a bow,

Deeds black as the night-gloom; words white as the snow;

Is it better to hide all my lust underneath?

Is it better to talk up my token bequeath?

Will my broad sweeping gestures disguise that I'm greedy?

Will the depth of my discourse persuade the unneedy?

Pipe dreams chubby and plump from that fiendish old elf;

That dream puppeteer - so proud of himself.

A marketing hypnotist, pulling the strings;

Casting his spell so we'll buy all his things.

He can speak not a word and let us do his work,

We'll fill all our stockings and turn with a smirk,

Accepting the fable that with each year grows,

We 'Need' all this stuff, the new toys and new clothes;

Festive Joy once-a-year doesn't seem too sincere,

But the real Santa Claus is an ace puppeteer;

A charming diviner who laughs with delight,

"HAPPY SPENDING TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT."